


Chessboard

by chanderson



Series: Young, Scrappy, and Hungry [15]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Older Man/Younger Man, Past Relationship(s), Politics, Racism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-05 04:59:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11006490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chanderson/pseuds/chanderson
Summary: “George Washington? I’ve been looking for you all night,” a sweet, Southern voice suddenly says behind him. George immediately straightens up, the breath catching in his throat.He hasn’t heard that voice in a long, long time.





	Chessboard

**Author's Note:**

> Ya girl found some time to write on vacation B) 
> 
> If you don't know who Sally Fairfax is, GWash and her had a little thing when he was younger (unknown whether or not they were actually ~together~ but they flirted a lot), but she was married to his friend George William Fairfax, so you know how that goes. However, the Washingtons and the Fairfaxes did actually end up having a very strong, lasting friendship. I'm sure Sally was lovely, but for the sake of this fic, I made her shitty.
> 
> For clarity, I refer to GWF as George William.
> 
> I mention Henry Lee as someone George dated. He was one of GWash's friends.

The East Room is packed full of politicians in dashing tuxes and glittery ballgowns. The wives stand around gossiping, and Democrats and Republicans pretend to act buddy buddy, putting on fake smiles with ease, loosened by the free liquor. 

Fat, sleazy lobbyists with overly gelled hair flit around rubbing elbows with anyone they think may be corrupt enough to engage in a little quid pro quo. They lay it on thick and lean in to whisper into the power-hungry politicians’ ears, pretending to be discreet even though everyone knows what they’re doing. 

Congressional aides and staffers stand in awkward packs off to the side of the room, their obviously rented, cheap tuxes and consignment store dresses making them bashful and painfully aware of the Washington social hierarchy at play.

George tries to engage in as little conversation as possible while he makes his rounds, offering up his ‘political smile.’ He has a glass of bourbon clutched tightly in his hand—he’s had to resort to drinking to survive this. 

He’s on his second time around the room when a hand falls on his shoulder, jerking him to a stop.

“Everyone really appreciate everything you’ve done for minority communities so far, Mr. President,” comes Jefferson’s obnoxious Southern drawl from behind him. George turns and tries not to spit on Jefferson’s shoes as he continues talking. “I think it’s made a rather bold statement. Of course, we’ll have to discuss the Republican affirmative action legislation. I think it would bode well for you to support it.”

George forces a smile onto his face and politely sips at his glass of bourbon as Jefferson leans in a little too close for comfort and gives George one of his slimy smiles. 

“We’ll just have to see, Senator,” he says through gritted teeth. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Oh please, call me Thomas. We went to grade school together after all,” Jefferson gushes before taking a dainty sip of his champagne. George nods and takes another sip of his bourbon to hide his growing frustration. 

“Alright, well, Thomas I’m glad you could make it tonight.”

“I wouldn’t miss a party at the White House, especially when it’s an open bar.” Jefferson smiles wolfishly and George swallows down a prickly sense of unease. 

Alex and Lafayette are leaning against the bar watching him, and Lafayette pretends to stick his finger into his mouth and makes a gagging motion. 

“You know,” George says quickly, pretending to crane his neck. “I think I see someone trying to get my attention.” George manages to conjure up another fake smile and pats Jefferson on the back before making his way over to Alex and Lafayette. 

“Have a nice chat with your old buddy?” Lafayette asks sarcastically. George rolls his eyes and finishes his drink. 

“I’ve had to start drinking to survive this. I don’t see why we have to throw a big party to celebrate Civil Rights and the black community. It just feels stupid and hokey.”

“It’s all part of the game,” Alex says ruefully, his eyes warily tracking Jefferson as he meets up with Madison and they navigate themselves through the crowd. 

George absently fiddles with his bowtie and Alex reaches over to swat his hands away. “Stop messing with that. You’re gonna fuck up my nice handiwork.” 

“Sorry,” George murmurs. Alex just smiles fondly and shrugs. 

“George Washington? I’ve been looking for you all night,” a sweet, Southern voice suddenly says behind him. George immediately straightens up, the breath catching in his throat. 

He hasn’t heard that voice in a long, long time. 

Alex narrows his eyes predatorily as George whips around, coming face to face with Sally Fairfax. She looks stunning as always in a long, blue dress that hugs her slim figure. Her creamy skin looks as smooth as porcelain. 

“Sally?” he finally manages to sputter, desperately trying to school his face back into a pleasant expression. 

“It’s been far too long, Georgie,” she purrs, reaching out to touch his arm. George can’t stop himself from flinching away and tensing up. Her lips turn down into the perfect pout. 

“Aren’t you excited to see me? I thought surely you would be after all these years.” She flutters her eyelashes and George swallows hard. 

“Is George William here?” he asks breathlessly, very aware of Alex’s eyes boring into the back of his head. 

“You didn’t hear?” Sally asks, her mouth opening a bit in shock. “George William and I divorced about a year ago. Don’t tell me you’ve stopped keeping up with Virginia politics. You used to be so infatuated with it.”

“I’m usually a little too busy to check in,” George says tightly. “I’m sorry to hear that.” 

Sally laughs and shakes her head. “Don’t be. It’s for the best, really. Now I’m free to pursue my own political career.”

George tries—and fails—to mask the surprise on his face and coughs into his arm. “What’re you going to do? Run for the Senate seat?”

“Of course not. I’m starting a PAC.” She grins and steps a little closer. “That’s why I’m here: Courting potential candidates. Election season is upon us, as you know.”

George nods and nervously shifts his weight. “Of course.”

She smiles and touches his arm again. “Now, don’t tell me this town has already beaten the nice Southern gentleman out of you. Aren’t you going to ask me to dance?” 

George has to resist the urge to tug at his collar as he’s hit with a wave of heat. “Sorry,” he mumbles and offers her his hand. She grins and practically tugs him out amongst the other dancers. 

“You know, Georgie, you’re now considered Washington’s most eligible bachelor,” she whispers conspiratorially in his ear as he politely puts one of his hands on her waist. The silky material of her dress is soft against his skin. “No one ever sees you out on any dates though. Have you been sneaking women into the White House on the down low? You always were so insatiable.” 

“I’m not really interested in dating,” he says, his voice cracking on the word dating. “I don’t exactly have very much time for women.”

“Well, it looks like you may have had time for that aide of yours over there. The one glaring at me like a jealous lover? What’s his name… Alex, right?” 

George’s stomach drops and he tenses up. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he whispers angrily, eyes darting around to see who may have heard her. She rolls her eyes and puts her hand flirtatiously on his chest. 

“Oh relax. You know I’m just messing with you. I figured you probably left that little… interest… of yours behind you.”

He grits his teeth and forces a smile. “Like I said, I’m not interested in dating.” He gives her a pointed look, but she just laughs and rubs his chest. 

“But you’d look so good with a woman on your arm. The American people adore a good love story. Plus, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about how I used to make you feel.”

“I’m not interested,” George says coldly. “I haven’t been for a long time.”

“Right, right,” she says, matching his tone. “Because I ran off with George William and broke your poor, sensitive heart. Is that still your version of the story, Georgie?”

George snaps his teeth together with an audible click, anger burning low in his stomach. “I’d rather not dredge up old wounds,” he hisses.

“It’s not my fault that I couldn’t wait forever. But now we’re both here and I’m not married to George William anymore. What happened to the George Washington who stood begging on my doorstep? Surely he’s still inside of you somewhere.”

“That was a long time ago. I moved on,” George says shakily. The combination of anxiety and anger is making the bourbon he drained earlier slosh in his stomach and he tries to swallow down a swell of panic. 

The song ends, but Sally continues to hold onto him. He knows people are looking at them, and his whole body is screaming at him to leave, but he’s rooted to the spot, stiff and frozen under her calculated yet coquettish gaze. 

“Have you really moved on?” she asks softly as another song starts and she nudges him to start dancing. He clumsily stumbles a bit before he finds a rhythm and somehow manages to keep his balance despite how dizzy he’s starting to feel. 

He takes a deep breath and anxiously chews his lip. “Yes, Sally, I’ve really moved on. Did you seriously think you were going to just show up and I’d instantly come crawling back to you? I’m not some lovesick 16 year old boy anymore.”

“I still regret leaving you for George William,” she murmurs against his ear. He shivers and swallows down a surge of bile. 

“No you don’t.” 

“Oh but I do. You were so handsome, so promising.”

“But you chose George William and I moved on,” George snaps. “I really—I don’t understand what you’re doing here, but like I said, I’m _not_ interested.” 

“Not even a little? Don’t you remember all the long nights we spent together? Weren’t those nice?”

“I already told you that I’ve left that part of my life behind me,” George says evenly. She narrows her eyes and clucks her tongue. 

“Would you change your answer if Henry showed up? Surely you must miss him.”

“Watch your mouth,” George snaps, his nostrils flaring. Sally laughs and smiles coyly. 

“You’ve always been so emotional, Georgie. I thought _surely_ you would grow out of that.”

The song ends and George steps away from her, fixing her with a sharp look. “It was nice to see you Sally. Good luck with the PAC.” 

George turns and rapidly scans the room for Alex, finally finding him sulking in the corner. 

“Who was that?” he asks as soon as George walks up, a bit of an acerbic bite in his voice. George sighs and clenches his jaw. 

“Sally Fairfax. She’s an old friend of mine.” 

“A friend like Lafayette or a friend like me?” 

“A friend like you,” George sighs. 

Alex clenches his fists and glares at George. “She was all over you!” 

George grabs Alex’s arm and gives him a stern look. “Can we save this conversation for later when we’re alone?” he hisses, glancing warily at the crowd of people around them. “I’d rather not out myself in the East Room of the White House.”

Alex huffs and crosses his arms. “Fine.”

“Alex,” George says softly. “Please don’t be angry.”

“I thought you wanted to talk about this later,” Alex says snidely. “I’m going to talk to the Schuylers.”

George blows out a frustrated breath of air and pinches the bridge of his nose. This is exactly why he hates parties.

He watches as Alex stalks over to Angelica, her boyfriend John, and her younger sister Eliza. Angelica’s eyes shoot up to her hairline when Alex smiles flirtatiously at Eliza and offers her his hand. They walk onto the dance floor together and Alex pulls her against him, his hand curling around her slender waist. 

George keeps his face a pleasant neutral, hyperaware of his surroundings, but jealousy is burning white hot in his stomach. 

Lafayette very gently touches his arm and offers a sympathetic smile.

“He’s just drunk and jealous. Don’t worry about it,” he murmurs. “He’ll regret it.”

“Just like he regretted John Laurens?” George says curtly. A dark look passes over Lafayette’s face. 

“They’re just dancing, George. Plus, you did dance with Sally, an old lover.”

“What was I supposed to do? Tell her no and cause a scene?” George hisses. “I’m _president_. I can’t afford to make a scene.”

“Well, the tabloids are going to eat it up,” Lafayette says dryly. “It’ll be all over the place. Alex is probably just upset about it. He’s very possessive of you, you know.”

George shakes his head and downs the rest of his bourbon, his eyes trained on Alex as the song ends and he whispers something in Eliza’s ear. She laughs and squeezes his bicep affectionately. 

From across the room, Angelica finds George and they lock eyes. He gives her a tiny shrug and she purses her lips. A few seconds later, she’s smoothly breaking up Eliza and Alex’s conversation, steering her sister over to talk to Sam Adams, John Adams’ young, handsome cousin who’s currently serving as the head of the CIA. 

Alex shoots Angelica a dirty look and grabs a flute of champagne that a waiter offers him. George grinds his teeth, feeling his composure slipping. When James Madison strides up to him, he nearly vomits right there on the floor. He can’t handle this. 

“Mr. President,” Madison says, his voice full of the patent fake niceness that all politicians learn to master. “How nice of you to host this event.”

George smiles sickly and nods. “Thank you for coming, Congressman.” 

Madison smiles boyishly. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Sir.” He takes a sip of his whiskey and studies George, obviously sizing him up. “Are you excited for the election?”

“Not as excited as you, I’m sure,” George says coolly. “It’s shaping up to be a pretty good Republican field this go-around.”

“Yes, well, George Clinton and Horatio Gates are both admirable men. I’m looking forward to competing against them.”

“I bet you are.” 

Madison grins devilishly and shrugs. “But I’m even more excited to compete against you, Sir. You’re a formidable opponent.”

George raises his eyebrows and takes a sip of his bourbon. “You’re that confident that you’ll win, huh?” George asks amusedly. “Well, good for you, Congressman. It’s always good to project confidence.”

Madison just smirks and finishes his whiskey. “I know it is. It’s something you could work on.”

George bristles and clenches his fists. “Right. Thanks for the advice,” he says tightly. Madison nods and bows his head. 

“See you on the debate stage, Mr. President.” 

George nods tersely and watches Madison make his way over to Jefferson, noting the way he gently touches Jefferson’s elbow and leans in closely to whisper in his ear. 

A few moments later, they’re slipping out the door together. 

\---

The party finally winds down around two in the morning, and George slinks off to his bedroom, eager to get out of his tux. Alex is already busy undressing when George walks in. 

They both pointedly ignore each other, and George breezes past Alex to go into the bathroom so he can shower. The bourbon is all starting to catch up with him and he has to take a couple of deep breaths, leaning his head against the cool shower door.

“You gonna throw up?” Alex asks snidely from the bathroom doorway. George jerks his head up, which only exacerbates the problem as the room tilts and shifts out of focus. He closes his eyes and shakes his head. 

“No,” he says gruffly. 

“That’s a surprise.” 

George grinds his teeth and busies himself with turning the shower on. He can feel Alex’s eyes on his back as he undresses slowly, trying not to sway with the dizziness. 

“Do you need something?” George finally asks. He feels woefully exposed standing there naked while Alex is fully clothed and staring him down. 

“Oh no, I’m fine. Sally may need something, though. I’d check with her. I bet she’d love to join you for your shower.”

George clenches his fists so tightly that his nails dig into his palms. “I can say the same for you and Ms. Schuyler,” George snaps. Alex just smirks and crosses his arms. 

“Did that make you jealous?” His voice is slurred when he says it and he fixes George with a sharp, yet glazed, drunken look. 

“Just shut up and go to bed Alex. You’re drunk,” George says wearily. “And I need to shower.” 

George steps into the shower before Alex can respond, and he watches his retreating back through the foggy glass of the shower. 

He planned on taking a long shower, but the queasy feeling low in his stomach is starting to get worse and throwing up in the shower isn’t on his list of things to do tonight, so George gets out and half-heartedly dries himself off. 

After struggling into a pair of boxers, unsteadily stepping into the leg holes, he goes into the bedroom and collapses onto the bed, grunting with the effort it takes to roll himself into a comfortable position. Alex already shut the lights off, and the lamp on his bedside table is the only light left on. 

George turns his back to Alex and tugs the blankets up to his chin. Alex is pointedly silent as he shuts the light off and lays down too, his back facing George. 

The silence in the room is heavy and thick, almost oppressive, and it’s only making George feel worse as anxiety starts to mingle with the alcohol in his system. 

“You hurt my feelings tonight,” he finally says softly. Alex tenses beside him and scoffs. 

“Says the guy who danced with his ex,” he says mockingly. George winces and nervously chews his lip. 

“I couldn’t say no, Alex. That would’ve looked bad politically.” 

“Well, it’s gonna look great tomorrow morning when it’s splashed across every newspaper. Everyone will be so happy you finally found yourself a girlfriend.”

“I don’t care and you shouldn’t either. I’m obviously not going to date Sally Fairfax.”

“But everyone else will want you too. You can’t keep pretending to mourn your wife, George,” Alex snaps. 

The jolt of anger that hits George burns so hot that he’s sure his body must be on fire, burning from the inside out. His teeth click together and he jerks into a sitting position, a harsh laugh dying on his lips. 

“How dare you,” he snarls, halfway out of bed already. Alex quickly sits up and grabs his arm. 

“Shit, wait, George. That came out wrong,” he says as he tugs on George’s arm. George rips out of his grasp and stands up. He stares down at Alex, looming over the bed. 

“I can’t believe you would say that to me,” George says softly, his anger slowly fizzling out and morphing into hurt. 

“George I’m _really_ sorry,” Alex says. “I promise. That was…”

“Mean?” 

“Yeah,” Alex sighs. “And uncalled for. I’m just pissed.”

George sighs and climbs back into bed, sitting up with his arms crossed. “You didn’t have to go dance with Eliza. I told you that I was sorry and that we could talk about it later,” George says softly. 

“I know,” Alex mutters. “I was just angry. You have to know that people are going to talk about it, George.” 

“I really didn’t think about it,” George says honestly. “I was so shocked to see her that I didn’t really comprehend what was happening.” 

“How do you know her?” 

George swallows and chews on his lip. “I was in love with her in high school. She was a couple of years older, and I was so in love with her that it physically hurt. Looking back on it, she was just stringing me along because I was a lovesick kid and she could, but it still hurt. She told me that she would wait for me while she was in college, but then she met George William Fairfax and they got married while she was still in school. I’m surprised their marriage lasted as long as it did.” 

Alex is quiet for a few minutes before he tentatively reaches over and squeezes George’s hand. “I’m sorry.”

George laughs and shrugs. “It’s fine. I was just a kid. She left me and I started dating this guy Henry Lee up until we graduated. Then I met Martha my freshman year of college and, well, you know the rest.” 

“I don’t know why I got so jealous,” Alex mutters. “I’m just kinda drunk and seeing you out there dancing with her hurt because I’m the one you’re dating but we can’t go out there and do that.”

George swallows and scoots over closer to Alex. “I know. I’m so sorry. You know I’d dance with you if I could. I love you.”

Alex nods and squeezes George’s hand. “I know. I love you too.” 

They lapse into silence, and George lays back down to face Alex, blinking against the steady spinning of the room. 

Alex reaches up to cup his cheek and squeezes gently. “You sure you’re not gonna throw up?” he asks a little teasingly. 

“I’m not feeling so great, but I think I’ll be okay.” George smiles and kisses the tip of Alex’s nose. “What about you? I don’t know if you remember, but I had to clean your vomit out of the shower after we hosted the Russian ambassador a few weeks ago.” 

Alex shudders and laughs. “There was so much vodka. I honestly never want vodka again.”

George grins and kisses Alex gently, tasting the alcohol still lingering on his lips. “Are we good now?” he asks against Alex’s lips. Alex smiles into the kiss and nods.

“Yeah. We’re good.”

\---

George is enjoying a nice cup of coffee out on the Truman balcony before getting ready for the day when Alex barges outside, wearing only a loosely wrapped robe. His hair hangs in long, wet strands around his face. 

“What the fuck is this?!” he shouts as he shoves his iPad into George’s face. “I _told you_ this would happen, George!”

George winces against the bright light of the screen and carefully sets his coffee down. “What is it?” he sighs, wearily pinching the bridge of his nose.

“It’s the front page of People magazine that Burr just sent me a picture of!”

George’s stomach drops when he sees a picture of him and Sally with the words ‘The New First Couple?’ 

“We’ll kill the rumors, don’t worry,” he says firmly. This is just stupid, tabloid shit. Everyone’ll get over it in a few days.”

“Oh really?” Alex says tauntingly. “Because Buzzfeed is eating this shit up. They’re having a couple-name competition!” 

“Alex,” George sighs. “Sit down and have some coffee with me.”

“I don’t want any of your stupid coffee,” Alex mutters. “I’m getting ready and going downstairs.” 

Alex goes back inside, purposefully shutting the door a little too hard so it rattles on its hinges. 

George huffs a laugh and shakes his head. Sally Fairfax always was a thorn in George’s side—a schoolboy crush that escalated until he was too far gone to reel himself back in. She was two years older than him, impossibly beautiful, and impressively smart. She was also calculating and used George’s affections to boost her own ego, feeding him false hopes and whispering sweet promises that she never intended to keep. 

He thought he knew what love was. 

Then he met Martha. 

And now Alex.

When he gets down to the Oval, Angelica is waiting for him. George smiles ruefully and sits down on the couch across from her. 

She stares at him and arches an eyebrow. 

“Well?” she asks.

“You have a knack for intimidating people, you know,” George quips. She just continues to stare at him, her glare piercing. George sighs and shrugs helplessly. “I know, everything’s fucked up now. What’re we gonna do?”

“We have two options,” she says. “We either ignore it, or we kill the rumor and tell everyone reporting on it to go shove it up their asses.”

“Well, what does Alex wanna do about it?” 

Angelica shrugs. “I thought I’d ask you first, but I can go ask him.”

George sighs and nods. “Yeah, just do whatever he wants, okay? It should be his decision.” 

Angelica leaves, and George sits through his Daily Briefing. He stares down at the document and pretends to listen, but his mind is really on the picture of him and Sally Fairfax dancing under the soft glow of the East Room lights. 

Visually, they always made a breathtaking couple. Her creamy, pale skin next to his tawny complexion made them look like a work of art. George would hold her hand and marvel at the way their fingers came together like a chessboard. 

Of course, in 1990s Virginia, not everyone saw it that way. George still remembers the way it stung when he heard Sally’s father screaming that he didn’t want his lily white daughter dating a black boy. Or how it made something twist in his stomach when he first saw George William’s ivory skin and carefully coiffed brown hair as Sally clung off his arm at the park her first summer home from college. 

Sally always told George that she didn’t care. When she would sneak into his room at night and curl up in his bed, their limbs tangling together, she whispered in his ear that the color of their skin didn’t matter. But she never stayed past the sunrise and she never held his hand outside of his room.

So George had to wonder that maybe the color of his skin mattered more than either of them would ever know. 

He never asked if his race had anything to do with her leaving him. 

He was too scared that the answer might be yes. 

\---

George watches Burr’s daily briefing on his phone to see if he says anything about Sally. 

Burr strides up to the podium and flashes what George assumes must be a pretty expensive smile before starting his prepared remarks. 

“Before we get to the legitimate, actually important news, there are a few rumors I’d like to address,” he says, earning a low rumbling chuckle from the press. Burr flashes another one of his infuriatingly perfect smiles and George decides that he hates him just a little bit. “Now,” he continues, ignoring the quiet murmuring. “First of all, the president’s private life is not of your concern. It’s private for a reason. Second, _no_ , the president is not seeing Sally Fairfax. Or anyone, for that matter. Finally, President Washington politely asks that you all refrain from reporting on speculation, especially when it concerns his personal relationships.” 

As Burr steamrolls on, George closes out of the C-SPAN livestream and sits back in his chair. The copy of People magazine is still sitting on his desk and he stares at it again. Sally’s face is open and yearning, but he’s wearing a dark, stormy look. They don’t look like a couple in love, but he supposes that you can spin anything these days. 

He briefly considers asking Betsy to get Sally’s number so he can ask her not to comment on the story. And get some answers. He’s 38 now; is he still afraid of the possibility that a racist white man destroyed something George thought was sacred? He drafts what he would say in his mind, pictures himself twirling the phone cord around his finger as he talks. 

_“Did your father ask you to stop dating me or did you really stop loving me when you went to college? I wanted to marry you. I was going to propose once I turned 18 and got into college. I thought you would wait for me? You said that was my version of the story—that you left me. What’s your version of the story? Did your father do this?”_

His hand is hovering over the phone, ready to punch in Betsy’s extension. But then it’s ringing and Betsy’s telling him that Alex wants to see him, so he quickly pushes Sally Fairfax and her soft, white skin out of his head. 

George holds Alex on the couch and they kiss until George’s lips feel sore. Afterwards, he looks down at their hands, Alex’s fingers long and slender where George’s are thick. Alex catches him staring and asks what’s wrong. He doesn’t know what to say so he just kisses Alex until they can’t breathe. 

George never liked chess anyway. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope everyone enjoyed this! (Sorry for another low key metaphor thing). 
> 
> As soon as I read about Sally in the Chernow biography, I knew I had to include her somewhere in this lmao. 
> 
> Idk if anyone caught it, but there's a lil "Heights" reference in there when I mention that Sally doesn't stay past the sunrise (I couldn't resist)
> 
> Comments are always appreciated :-)


End file.
